


no knowledge is useless

by garden of succulents (staranise)



Series: a rink in common [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU: Yuuri went to Samwell University, Bitty and Yuuri were each other's first kiss, College AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Makeouts, during OMGCP year 1, pre-YOI canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9770582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranise/pseuds/garden%20of%20succulents
Summary: They've both had utterly miserable seasons, and it only makes sense to focus on the other things life has to offer.





	

Yuuri looks up from his laptop at a knock on the door.  After a minute of careful shifting and juggling, he works his way out from under the mess of computer, books, and paper to go answer it.

“Hey.”  Bitty gives him a subdued smile.  “We’re back.  We… lost.”

Yuuri’s had what he’s willing to call the mother of all bad seasons, but Bitty’s a strong competitor in the junior division.   _Depressing_  is the only word he can think of for following your team along on a road trip when you still get blinding post-concussion migraines, just to watch them get knocked out of their tournament for the year.

He opens the door.  “Come on in,” he says.

Bitty does, sniffling slightly.  He blames it on the cold as he sloughs off jacket and backpack and boots.  As Yuuri re-enters his senior thesis cocoon, he reaches up and offers Bitty a tissue from the box on his windowsill, and then a squirt of hand sanitizer.

“Sorry,” Bitty says.  “Didn’t want to disturb you. I know you’re busy.”

They both know this senior thesis is the only thing keeping Yuuri at Samwell another term.  He’s done all his classes, but as disaster piled upon disaster in December’s competition season, turning in his thesis draft for revision felt… less important.

Without comment, he opens up his bedside drawer and pulls out a ziploc bag of Bitty’s chocolate pecan cookies.  As Bitty sniffles his thanks and begins eating one, Yuuri packs up his papers.  He’s done six hours today; it’s not like he’s slacking off.  After a little more thought he pulls his water pitcher out of his mini-fridge, turns over a couple of cups to fill them, and brings them back.  Bitty remembers to take a couple of Tylenol, and stretches out on Yuuri’s bed while Yuuri takes the beanbag chair.

“What an awful way to end a year,” Bitty says to the ceiling.

“It’s only February,” Yuuri points out.  “And you’re only a freshman.”

Bitty turns onto his side, curled like a shrimp, so he can look at Yuuri steadily.  “Do better next season, right?”

Yuuri shrugs uncomfortably.  “Your team’s only going to get better. You’re learning a lot as a player.”

“How about you?”  Bitty tucks an arm under Yuuri’s pillow.  “You’re graduating. Be able to focus on your skating full-time next year.”

Yuuri looks away, annoyed.  “Let’s talk about something less depressing.”

“Okay,” Bitty says, and then lapses into silence, waiting for Yuuri to provide a new topic.  It’s one of the disconcerting things about Bitty now.  He’s usually a reliable chatterbox, filling up any silence, but since his concussion he’s quiet because he’s spacing out or in pain or… Yuuri doesn’t know what.  He worries sometimes. It’s such an easy thing to happen.

Maybe he should make tea.

As he’s turned away to switch on the kettle, Bitty says, “What’s going to be your favourite memory from Samwell?”

Yuuri frowns, looking down at his teacups, and keeps frowning as he sits down after preparing the teapot.  “I don’t know,” he says slowly.  “I don’t feel like I really got–Samwell.  I was always so focused on skating and class. I didn’t join any clubs or do anything fun.”

“I heard a rumour that you were Wellie at one of our games,” Bitty says gently, biting his lip in a smile.

“That was before you joined the team,” Yuuri says, which he supposes is admitting it’s true.  A lot of other people probably break the Wellie code of silence, because other people have fun at university. They break rules all the time, like sneaking alcohol into dorms and all kinds of things Yuuri would die before doing. His skating in the mascot costume hadn’t been anything extraordinary–a lot of spins, mostly–and the way he’d come off the ice dizzy and overheated had made Samwell authorities decide it was better _not_  to have a dancing well on ice.

“Ever seen Faber at sunrise?” Bitty asks, eyes drooping the way his might if he were sleepy.

“It’s pretty,” Yuuri concedes.  The light from the rising sun fills the skating rink with rosy colour.  It makes the school’s promotional brochures, affected his decision to come here, once. “I never… did anything I wasn’t supposed to, or drank at parties, or kissed anyone,” he confesses.  It feels like admitting defeat.

“Oh, honey,” Bitty says. “You regret that?”

Yuuri shrugs.  His kettle clicks off.  He checks his watch and lets it sit.  “I don’t _want_  to be loud and vomit all over the grass and annoy everyone else in dorms.  But I…” he looks away, not able to express his annoyance. He’s so tired of feeling like a failure.

“I never kissed anyone either,” Bitty confides.  “Not all year long, though I _did_  drink a powerful lot at parties.” He rolls onto his back a little, looking up at the ceiling.  “I came out to my team, though.  That’s something.”

Yuuri blinks.  “You did?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Bitty picks his head up off the pillow to look at him.  “Back in December. They were working on hooking me up for Winter Screw. I found someone I trusted and… let ‘em know they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says slowly. “I guess I was… away then.”   _Losing another competition,_  he thinks.

“They were really great about it,” Bitty says.  “Well, Samwell. You know. Screwed me with that rugby player.  I wasn’t into him, but, well… they tried.”

Yuuri had heard about the rugby player; complaining about the date had been Bitty’s own way of coming out to _him_.  It disconcerted him a little to know that Bitty had told a group of hockey players before another figure skater, but… maybe Bitty just hadn’t wanted to distract him from the Grand Prix and Nationals.

 _I’m bisexual,_  he’d said. _I’ve known since I was twelve, and Victor Nikiforov skated to Bolero._

“Did you want–” Bitty says, and then seems to lose his nerve.

“I like you,” Yuuri blurts out. “But I’m going back to Japan.”

“I know you are,” Bitty says.  “As soon as your thesis is finished.”

 _Now react to the other thing I said,_  Yuuri screams internally.   _The part about liking you._ “I,” he says, and then doesn’t know what else to say.  It occurs to him that he’s forgotten his tea.  The water’s probably too cold now.  “Never mind.”

“Did you want to kiss me?” Bitty says, in the tiniest voice.  “Just a little, before you go home?”

 _“Yes,_ ” Yuuri says with relief, and blushes at the speed with which he springs to his feet.

Bitty starts to get up, and then just scoots over on the bed, to make room for Yuuri to stretch out next to him.  He’s hideously self-conscious about how to lie, whether to prop himself up on an elbow, where to put his legs; when Bitty reaches out to touch his cheek, he hurriedly fumbles off his glasses, and then feels blind.

But he reaches out anyway to touch Bitty’s face in turn.

Bitty’s face is full of plump curves and soft waves of hair and moist, slightly-chapped lips; and that hand on his face is what tells him when they’re about to bump noses and when they’ve both turned the same way to avoid it.  It’s a very off-centre kiss, and Yuuri only feels comfortable pressing lips, his mouth closed to deeper exploration, while they figure themselves out.

He’s not holding out anymore for grand romance and perfect ecstasy.  By now, to be frank, he’s… desperate enough to get this _over_  with that he’ll accept some imperfections.  His first kiss is experimental and awkward, and it feels like Bitty’s is too.  And he’ll leave as soon as his edits are in and _he doesn’t care_ , because his friend has offered to get him over this particular hurdle.

He just wants to kiss somebody.  He wants to stop feeling like his life has passed him by with the grand finale unplayed.  He wants to remember what it was like to look at somebody else skating or kissing and feel eagerness and anticipation and _ambition_ , and not just a writhing jealous hunger.

After a little while their kisses match up, they find a routine together, and the slide of lips feels less like a confused search and more like part of the program.  Bitty kisses determinedly down Yuuri’s jaw; his lips explore ear and earlobe, which feels a little promising, but not the way Bitty does it.  After a moment of hesitation Yuuri puts a gentle hand on Bitty’s head and says, “Can you–” and repositions himself, ear under Bitty’s mouth, and then says, “Slow, and, uh.  Harder?”

Yuuri’s hand twists in Bitty’s shirt during the following experimentation, his face heating as Bitty sucks firm kisses along the shell of his ear, gently scrapes his teeth on Yuuri’s earlobe, traces them with finger and tongue, nuzzles his neck–and Yuuri finds himself _wanting_  a kiss, rolling back with his face seeking Bitty’s mouth, wanting to put his lips on something, taste, consume–and finds that Bitty’s tongue feels good in his mouth, that he likes to suck on its tip, that it feels good and reassuring to nibble on his bottom lip.  

With the awakening of this new appetite he goes exploring, past Bitty’s face and ears, which Bitty claims don’t do anything special, to his neck and collarbone, which _do._ It makes sense, now, those stupid things people do on TV; kissing rows and trails of things, nuzzling until he finds the spot on Bitty’s neck that makes him gasp.  His head is swimming, far away and very pleasant, but the tiniest changes in this terrain of skin warrant close attention.

“Oh, lord,” Bitty pants. His erection has been growing against Yuuri’s leg; Yuuri has a thought or two about that “Oh, I just–”

Yuuri leans his forehead against Bitty’s, grinning. 

“I like this part of my degree,” he says.

Looking like he’s doing something very daring, Bitty puts a hand on Yuuri’s ass, and squeezes it.  “Making better memories?”

“Yes,” Yuuri agrees, and goes back to making them.


End file.
